( EXECUTION - THE BEGINNING OF AN END )

[abhoth]

At 8:00 AM, Heather, Girge and Andersen will be gently roused awake like all other Sunday mornings. Akane Kurashiki is nowhere to be found, but the faceless men will stop by to serve each of the survivors a grand breakfast to start their day. They will be allowed to do as they please until 9:00 AM, when Craftly's voice will be heard over the static filled P.A. system. "Good morning, residents. I hope you were able to sleep, despite... the unfortunate circumstances surrounding this day. I will be waiting for you in the parking lot. Please do try to be hasty. My men will escort you if necessary." And as promised, Craftly will be waiting for all three of them in the parking lot. A brightly lit torch will be held in one of his hands, and he motions for them to follow him with a tilt of his head. Without hesitation, he approaches the fog — and watches as it parts to create a narrow path. Any resident that's unwilling to follow him will find their body moving on their own, and within the next fifteen minutes, all four of them will be threading down unfamiliar paths. More specifically, the path that leads to Lake Crotin. It doesn't take long for them to reach the clearing next to the lake. And once they do, the fog surrounds them once again, blocking off their only exit.

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EXECUTION

[abhoth]

... This is it. [Craftly's voice is quiet as he extinguishes the flames while the faceless men slowly march into the clearing. Akane is still nowhere to be found, and an eerie pressure surrounds the area.] With this final death, this final payment — the ritual will be over. I had hoped to see this session come to an end before it could progress to this point, but that is only a thought of the past now.

[The faceless men assume their usual position, blocking off the platform despite it currently being empty. They link their hands together, raising them towards the sky. The sun shines impossibly bright over the horizon.]

Heather. [The Innkeeper turns to look at her, pausing for a moment.] ... Do not hesitate. The fate of your friends is in your hands.

[And it is at that moment that everyone's vision goes pitch black.

When they come back to, Akane Kurashiki has joined them... but not voluntarily. For she is now bound at the top of an impossibly tall stake, arms held above her head by a thick rusty nail impaled through both of her hands. Her legs are similarly held in place by a nail impaled through both of her feet, her torso freely leaning forward and causing the nails to slowly rip through her flesh, but that should be the least of her worries. After all, she's drenched in oil, hair matted to her face as the substance drips down her skin and mixes with the blood on her arms and feet. Large pieces of wood surround her, and it doesn't take much of a genius to know what must happen here.

Faceless men block access to the platform, with Craftly standing a couple paces away from the group, keeping anyone who might want to interfere out... as well as keeping those inside the perimeter in. Trapped on the platform is Heather Mason. She'll find two things next to her: a large canister of lighter fluid, and a lit torch set upon a stand. The wooden sign this time displays clear instructions of a man dumping the lighter fluid on the wood, before tossing the torch into the fray to immolate another man. The art style may seem familiar to some.

Coming from both nowhere and everywhere at once, an unpleasant, nauseating voice speaks all those who are present. It is not Craftly's voice. It cannot even be classified as a human voice. The longer it's heard, the worse the sensation becomes.]

Ờ҉NE ̀MO҉R͏̶̨E̷̛͜ ̛DE͜͠A̶T̷̶H͠
̶
TO̴ ̸E̴ND̷̨ ̛͠҉T҉H҉EM̴̢ ͠A̧͠L̨҉̕L̷̕͡

[The message is clear. Now it's up to the Executioner to decide what to do.]

( This thread is for the majority vote and executioner only. If you wish to react, feel free to post your own top level. )

THE DEAL

[abhoth]

[Even after Akane is gone, the stench of burned flesh remains. It serves as a reminder of this last death; of this last sacrifice to the Unclean. Unreasonably cruel, just as everything else in the past five weeks has been.

The faceless men break the circle around the platform, one of them rushing over to steady Heather and bring her back to Girge and Andersen. The sun continues to shine impossibly bright, only adding to the heat released from the charred remains of the stake. Craftly does not move from his current spot, instead taking a sip from his ever present drink and glancing up at the sky.]

Unclean, horrid name to be whispered among mortals. Old One, key to the past, future and present. Take this offering. Take our filth into yourself, and be satisfied with the blood that has been repaid. [Said like a mantra. Like something he's had to repeat over and over again.] I show to you the three survivors of this session. Please, offer them the deal if it interests you.

[As Craftly ceases to speak, the ground beneath Heather, Andersen and Girge begins to shake. The sun disappears, plunging our three survivors into total darkness. Only the embers of Akane's resting place provide illumination, but it's not enough. Whispers fill their ears, relegating them with tales of survival and triumph. Familiar names and voices are among them; names and voices of people from their own worlds, explaining how they killed, survived and took the deal. The influence of the gods is eternal. There is no hope of destroying them.

The whispers cease as light returns to the clearing — but it no longer comes from the sun. For the first time in five weeks, night falls on the City of Yuggoth. The Unclean's avatar ripples, tendrils swaying as her body casts a blue glow over the realm. There is nothing but silence, the faceless men prostrating themselves on the ground to worship their goddess.

And then she speaks.

To Girge, who is one of her Prophets, her voice is gentle and soothing to his ears. He will suffer no ill effects as she speaks.]

I asked for entertainment, and my facilitators did not disappoint. To honor this success, I come to you with a choice. You already know your options. I won't bother to mince words.

[Heather and Andersen, on the other hand, won't be as fortunate as Girge. The Unclean will sound like this to their ears:]

I̛͡҉ ÀŚK̀͜Ę̵̶D͏ ͠F̀̕͠O̴R ̶́͜E͡N͏͡T̷E͡R̸͠TA̕͡IN҉M̷͡E̛͠͏NT͞,́ ̴̧͢Ą̵Ń̸D͞ ̨́M͘͢Ý͜ ͏F̕҉ĄC͏҉I͘LI̡̢̧TAT҉O҉R͢Ś ̶̨D̕͘͢I̵D̵͜ ̨̢͜N͞O͞T͏͝͠ ͏D͏IS̵A͢Ṕ̴҉P͝O̶I̵̶͢N͟͏T̶̨.̵̶ ̨T̶̸͘O̵̕ ͜͡H̨͘O͞Ǹ̀͡O̵̧Ŕ̢ T̸͞HÍ͟S͡ ̀͟͢SU̶̕C̀C̸E̷̛SS̛͞͡,҉̕ ͟͞I ̷C̛͡O̵M̛Ę͜ TO͟ ̶͠Y͢O͜͜͝U͏ ̵̢W̧IŢ̕H͏͟͟ A͟ ̨͏C̡͝HO̧͜Ì̢C͏E҉͏҉.͝ ̸̶Y͠Ờ͠U͞͡ ̷̀A̸̴L̢͘RE͘͝A͝Ḑ͠Y̶͟ ͢͞K͜N̕͡͝O͟W̨͟ ̶͘͟Ỳ͜Ò͞U͞҉̢R̨̀ ̡͏O̡P͢͡T̡͢Í͟͏O͞͠N̵S̵.̸͜ ̷͜I̷̷ ̸́͟W͏͞ON̢'T̴̴ B̀͠O̸T̨͘H̵È̴͠R̵͠͝ T̴O͢͞ ̶͟M͘͏͢I̡̛͞N͝C̸̸̡È W͠͞͏O͘R҉̕D͞S.̶̨ ́͏

[It's painful enough that it will give both of them either a nosebleed or cause them to bleed out their ears for the next few hours. On top of this, they will both begin to experience nausea and a mild fever the longer they speak to her. Whoops.]